 | Poetical Works of Robert Bridges excluding the eight dramas |  |
55
These meagre rhymes, which a returning mood
Sometimes o'errateth, I as oft despise;
And knowing them illnatured, stiff and rude,
See them as others with contemptuous eyes.
Nay, and I wonder less at God's respect
For man, a minim jot in time and space,
Than at the soaring faith of His elect,
That gift of gifts, the comfort of His grace.
Sometimes o'errateth, I as oft despise;
And knowing them illnatured, stiff and rude,
See them as others with contemptuous eyes.
Nay, and I wonder less at God's respect
For man, a minim jot in time and space,
Than at the soaring faith of His elect,
That gift of gifts, the comfort of His grace.
O truth unsearchable, O heavenly love,
Most infinitely tender, so to touch
The work that we can meanly reckon of:
Surely—I say—we are favour'd overmuch.
But of this wonder, what doth most amaze
Is that we know our love is held for praise.
Most infinitely tender, so to touch
The work that we can meanly reckon of:
Surely—I say—we are favour'd overmuch.
But of this wonder, what doth most amaze
Is that we know our love is held for praise.
| Poetical Works of Robert Bridges excluding the eight dramas | |